Fiction Archive

Thursday, January 1, 2015

“I have a signal from a
matter-transmission station,” Lieutenant Sami said from the comm
station. “And another from the shuttle Alphonse. They are about
50 meters apart. The station is in a forested area, fairly secluded,
but the shuttle is near a large structure, several stories tall.”

“Can we communicate
with the inhabitants of this world?” said Captain Vasquez.

“I'm detecting no radio
emissions, sir. They must not have the tech for that.”

“So no radar, either,”
mused the captain. “All right. Commander Crichton, assemble a
team and prepare for a stealth mission to recover the shuttle.”

“We will attempt to
recover Lieutenant St. Clair, as well, Commander, but we need more
information.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Assemble your team,
and be ready in one hour.”

The matter-transmission
station was a meter-wide disk hidden in a pit formed by a ring of
boulders. The team transmitted through one at a time, starting with
Crichton, then Roberts, Jennings and hulking Torq, all security
ensigns, and then petite Lieutenant Sami. All wore blackout suits
and hoods. Crichton led them through a forested area to a clearing
around a large structure. The shuttle was not far from it.

“We've reached the
shuttlecraft,” Cricton sub-vocalized for the comm unit implanted in
his jaw. The team secured the area, forming a perimeter around the
shuttle. Lieutenant Sami opened the panel by the entrance, casting a
shallow light which Crichton moved to shield from the building with
his body. He could see her pale face in the eerie light, seeming to
float in the darkness.

“The shuttle has
power,” Sami sub-vocalized, keying in a sequence on the touchpad.
The door opened silently; the inside of the shuttle was dark and
empty. “Looks like Lieutenant St. Clair put her in lockdown mode.”

“Power her up.”

Sami moved to the front
of the shuttle and bent over the display there. Her petite
silhouette was suddenly illuminated by the lights of the console.
“It looks like the shuttle soft-landed. It can be relaunched with
minimal repairs.”

“Scan for Lieutenant
St. Clair's comm unit; see if you can send a message to her.”

“She's not in the
immediate area...a wider scan will take some time.”

“In the meantime, check
the logs for any leads.”

“Commander,” Crichton
heard over the comm, “A door has opened in the structure, and an
alien stands in the doorway, looking out. It hasn't seen us yet.”

Crichton silently left
the shuttle and peered around the bulkhead to see for himself. The
alien was backlit and hard to see. The door itself was much larger
than he had expected, he estimated it was about five meters high, and
the alien was perhaps four. It presented a humanoid silhouette,
though very thin. A much smaller figure, less than two meters tall,
suddenly darted out past the alien, and the alien gave chase,
scooping up the smaller figure in its arms. “Da-da-da!” the
smaller creature shrieked.

“Dih-dah, mee la
nee-na,” said the large alien in a very deep, booming sort of
voice. It turned and carried the smaller creature back into the
structure.

“Commander!”
sub-vocalized Ensign Torq. He looked sharply over at Crichton. Torq
was a Val, not a human, and his skin was the same color as his
blackout suit. All Crichton could see of him was his slitted,
catlike eyes. “That is a human!”

“What? Are you
certain?”

“I have no doubt.”

“Was it Lieutenant St.
Clair?”

“No, sir.”

Crichton went back into
the shuttle. “Sami, can you get a signal to the Molari?” he
asked.

“...yes, sir, I've got
a link.”

“How fast do you think
you can make the shuttle spaceworthy?”

“It may take thirty or
forty minutes. Half that if Roberts helps me.”

“I'll leave him with
you. Update the Molari on our situation and be ready to launch as
soon as possible. I've got to rescue that human and see if there are
any others. If you and Roberts are discovered, I want you to launch.
We'll head back to the matter transmission point.”

“Good luck, sir.”

“Thank you,
Lieutenant.”

Crichton and the two
security ensigns moved out. Torq, at 2.1 meters tall, was the only
one that could reach the handle on the door. It was dark inside the
structure, but a little light shone from a window to their left. Stairs led up to a second floor immediately to their right.
“Jennings,” Crichton ordered. “Watch the stairs.”

The first room was large
and open, with double-scale chairs and what looked like a long couch
facing a structure made of stone. Through a wide doorway at the far
end was another large window and to the right was a room filled with
huge machines. Another door under the stairs revealed a small room
with two strange basins inside.

They went back and
started up the stairs. Each stair was as tall as Crichton's thigh,
so it was a difficult climb and took some time. Jennings remained on
the first floor, keeping watch.

The second floor
consisted of a long corridor with several doors. Torg opened each in
turn. The first was storage, with layers of shelves. The second was
a larger version of the room downstairs with the basins. Inside the
third was an alien lying on a raised platform, a covered in a cloth
pulled up to its chin. “It seems smaller than the one in the
doorway,” Torq said.

In the fourth room was a
cage, two meters wide, three long and about three tall. It stood on
legs like a table. In it was a human, lying on the cushioned floor
of the cage, asleep. “I'm going to wake him and explain what's
going on. You wait in the hallway and keep watch.”

There was no lock on the
cage, just a simple sliding latch. It was made of wood and it had
been fitted very tightly, so it took all of Crichton's strength to
unlatch it. The cage doors then opened outward like a cabinet. “Wake up,” he whispered. “I'm here to help you.”

The man rolled over and
looked at him. It was difficult to make out his expression in the
darkness. “Da da da?” he said out loud.

“Shhhh!” Crichton
sushed. “I can get you out, but you must be quiet.”

“Commander,” Torq
said over the comm. “The last door opens.”

“Hide!” Crichton
said, closing the cage quickly and ducking under it.

“Too late; I've been
seen by the alien. I flee. It gives pursuit.” Crichton heard
noises on the stairs, then it was quiet. “Jennings and I have
reached the shuttle,” Torq said, “but we were seen and the alien
approaches.”

“Damn.” Crichton
opened the cage again. “Come on.” He tugged at the man's hand;
the man got down from the cage very carefully and began to follow him
without a word. They worked on the stairs; the man was not very
agile, so it was slow going.

“Commander, the alien
is almost here,” called Sami over the comm.

“You have your orders.
Launch.”

“But what about you?”

“I and the man I've
found can get to the matter transmission point while the alien is
distracted by what you're doing. We're almost to the bottom of the
stairs. Go now!”

Crichton grabbed the
man's hand again and pulled him out the door and across the road away
from the shuttle. It launched, brightening the sky behind them with
the glow of its engines. The man slowed and looked back, hooting in
excitement. “It's okay,” Crichton told him. “Lieutenant St.
Clair left a matter transmission point near her crash site. We can
escape that way. I'm sure the captain will want to hear how you
ended up in that cage.”

Crichton pulled him
gently into the forest to the point. Crichton helped the man climb
over the rocks and stood on the platform, then tapped the activation
code out with his foot.

The world disintegrated
around them, then coalesced again as the cargo bay. “Captain,”
Crichton said aloud to the comm. “Commander Crichton reporting in.
I have rescued a human prisoner from the surface, but it's not
Lieutenant St. Clair.”

“Take him to the
infirmary; I will meet you both there shortly,” Captain Vasquez's
voice responded.

Crichton turned and
looked at the human, getting his first good look. The man was about
his height, 1.9 meters, and a little chubby. His expression was wide
and bewildered. “Come on, sir.” He took the man's hand again
and began to lead him to the lift. “What's your name?”

The man looked at him and
said, “Da da da!” He seemed to be missing some teeth.

“You don't speak the
common tongue?”

“Da.”

“Hm.” Crichton
didn't bother trying to speak to the man for the rest of the trip up
the lift to the infirmary. Dr. Worthing was there, prim as ever in
her long white coat.

She placed her hand on
one of the beds. “Sit here,” she said to the man. He walked
over and put his hand on it, too. “Sit,” she repeated, sitting
on it to show him what she meant. He copied her, and she pushed a
button on the console at the foot of the bed.

“Tom,” said the
doctor, reading the results. “She's not human.”

“She?” Crichton said.
“But...” he looked at the being in front of him. The features
were all characteristic of human males, except the cheeks were
beardless. He was a little chubby, but still within the range of
normal.

“She,” Dr. Worthing
confirmed. “She has an internal gestation pouch. She's not human.
Her organs are all in different places, and her DNA is different.
She is...still growing.”

“Growing?”

“Rapidly. If her
growth rate is analogous to humans, she is very young. Perhaps the
equivalent of a two-year-old child.” The doctor looked up at
Crichton, her expression grim. “Tom, you didn't rescue a human prisoner, you kidnapped an alien baby.”

Crichton sat down heavily
on one of the beds. Everything fell into place suddenly. The
structure they'd invaded was a family home, the hulking machines
things like refrigeration units and ovens. The weird basins were
sinks and toilets. The cage from which he'd “rescued” this
person was not a cage at all, but a crib. He rubbed his hands over
his face. “Torq said he was certain he'd seen a human. It was
dark...she was so quiet, I thought she wanted to be rescued. She
came along willingly.”

“She doesn't seem to be
disturbed by this experience,” the doctor said.

The baby alien had turned
around on the bed and was playing with the pillow.

“I was hoping she knew
something about what happened to Jenien,” Crichton said.

Captain Vasquez came in
and the doctor briefed him on what had happened. “The aliens
probably thought Lieutenant St. Clair was a lost child,” he said,
“And took her away from the crash site.”

“And the shuttlecraft
was just sitting in the alien's backyard. They may have thought it
was a toy because of its size.”

“I agree. Commander, I
want you to take the matter transmitter and return this child to her
home. Just leave her somewhere safe where she will be found and
return. Lieutenant Sami and Ensign Roberts are doing a high-altitude
search for Lieutenant St. Clair's comm signal. Contact us through
them if you encounter any trouble.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The alien child was
cooperative as Crichton led her by the hand to the transmitter and
then helped her climb back out of the pit. There were aliens combing
the woods for the child, so he simply pointed her in their direction
and went back into the pit. “Shuttle Alphonse to Commander
Crichton.”

“Crichton responding.”

“We've located
Lieutenant St. Clair's comm signal. She's several kilometers north
of you, heading in your direction. She won't return our attempts at
communication; her receive function may be damaged.”

“I'm going to
rendezvous with her, see if she needs any help.”

“Your orders were to
return immediately.”

“Clear it with the
captain then, Sami, I think he'll see it my way.”

Crichton headed north.
The sun began to rise to his left as he walked. He had only been
walking for twenty or thirty minutes after dawn when he saw a person
a bit smaller than himself. He watched the person for a moment. It
looked like a human and wore a long white dress that obscured the
being's figure. The hair was short and dark. It stopped for a
moment, then said, “Who is that?”

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Way back in 2013, I was inspired by Neil Gaiman's A Calendar of Tales to write my own tales using the same inspirational quotes. I did not read his stories before I wrote mine, but I did read them after, and they are all awesome.

“Who would you like to see again in December?”

“My 18 yo-runaway-self so I can show her that I find someone to love & own a home of my own - it did get better.”

Cherry
shivered as she sat at the bar of the all-night diner. She was
eighteen now, a full adult. She had been on her own for nearly a year
and she didn't feel any less lost. She spent her nights here, nursing
a cup of coffee, if she couldn't find a couch to surf. The night
staff didn't care as long as she paid for something and didn't lay
down in a booth to sleep.

She
had enrolled at the local junior college, but couldn't handle a full
schedule while she didn't know where she was going to sleep, and so
wasn't eligible for financial aid or job placement. Without a job or
rental history, she couldn't apply for any of the rooms on the
housing board at the JC.

She
shivered in the diner, but not because it was cold. Earlier that
evening, when she had been trying to find a couch, an acquaintance
had offered her more than a couch. He had offered her a bed. A
permanent bed, if she wanted it; but he would be in it.

He
wasn't icky, or anything, though she wasn't interested in him. It
would solve all her problems; a stable address would allow her to get
a job, to take more classes, to get set up eventually with her own
place. She wouldn't let herself consider the obvious; that accepting
his offer would make her feel like a whore, and she'd never ever feel
like anything else. That wasn't logical. A job was a job, however it
paid.

If
that was true, why was she sitting staring into a cup of coffee and
shivering in the diner instead of with him right now?

She
picked through the bit of change she'd managed to pan-handle that
afternoon. There was enough for the coffee and a buck for the server.
She prepared to put the money down and leave.

An
older lady sat next to her at the bar. “Don't go yet, kiddo.”

Cherry
looked over at her. There was something familiar about her that she
couldn't place. “Why not?”

“Because
I want to buy you a piece of cheesecake and tell you some stuff.”

“Cheesecake?”

“Yeah,
you like cheesecake, don't you?”

“Sure,
but--”

“Hey,
Chris,” she called to the server. He walked over, then looked
between the two of them. He seemed a little freaked out, but Cherry
couldn't see why. Maybe he knew this lady and she was bad news? It
seemed far-fetched. She was the kind of middle-aged suburbanite you
never see in late-night diners. Totally wholesome and harmless.

“Two
cheesecakes, please. And a coffee.”

“What's
your deal, lady?” Cherry asked.

“Just
a minute.”

“What?”

“Wait
for the cheesecake.”

“Oh...kay...”

Chris
the server brought the cheesecakes. He seemed a little less freaked
out. “You ladies enjoy,” he said.

The
lady took a large bite of the cheesecake, and nodded at Cherry. She
shrugged and took a bite, too. It tasted like one of those frozen
cheesecakes you get at the grocery store; good, but not amazing. She
sipped her coffee, which had been refilled, then said, “So, what's
your deal?”

“I
wanted to tell you that you don't have to move in with Jason.”

Cherry's
eyes grew wide. “What?”

“I
mean it. You don't want to, I know. I remember. And you don't have
to. You're going to pick up a classified section tomorrow, and you're
going to see a job there that will meet all the needs moving in with
Jason would. You will find your calling, meet the love of your life,
and in ten years, you'll be living in a house that you own.”

“How
do you even know about that? Who are you?”

“You'd
never believe me.”

“Whatever,
lady.” Cherry ate the cheesecake; it was the best meal she'd had in
days. She wanted to believe the woman, but things like that just
didn't happen. “Thanks for the cheesecake. It's been a trip.”

“When
you're nearing your fiftieth birthday, your youngest son, the little
surprise, will invent a time machine in the basement. You'll know
what to do.”

Cherry
turned back to the woman, but she was gone; the only evidence of her
having been there was an empty plate and a twenty dollar bill. She
snatched up the twenty and looked at it. Just an ordinary bill. She
sat back down. It wouldn't kill her to wait until tomorrow to see
Jason, and this much money would buy her some breakfast.

Chris
the server walked by again to fill her coffee cup. “Hey, where'd
your mom go?”

“My
mom?” Cherry said. “My mom's been dead for three years.”

“What?
Hey, I'm sorry. Who was that lady then, your aunt?”

“No,
I'd never seen her before. She was just some weird lady.”

“You're
kidding me, right? She looked just like you.”

“What?
No way!”

“Well,
she was older, but yeah. She looked like you, but older.”

Cherry's
eyes got wide. “Maybe she was!” she whispered.

“Heh,
you're pretty weird. What's your name?”

“Cherry.”

“No,
really?”

“Yeah,
really.”

“What
are you planning on doing after this?”

“Well,
the campus library opens at seven, so I was going to see if I could
get some sleep there before my first class, but now...I think I might
pick up a newspaper on my way. Have a peek at the classifieds.”

Way back in 2013, I was inspired by Neil Gaiman's A Calendar of Tales to write my own tales using the same inspirational quotes. I did not read his stories before I wrote mine, but I did read them after, and they are all awesome.

“What would you burn in November, if you could?”

“My medical records, but only if that would make it all go away.”

Abigail
peeked over into the caldera and then pulled quickly back. The rocks
themselves were smoking down there, and the updraft was very strong.
She had begun to sweat in her heat-proof suit. She couldn't survive
here without it, but if she stayed too long, her own retained body
heat would cook her.

She
took out the fat folder full of Steve's medical records and set them
carefully on the edge of the caldera, then eased them over into the
flaming pit. The updraft caught them and swirled them around, but
almost all of them burned up in the hot wind or settled down into the
caldera.

One
lone page did neither. It snagged on something just below the edge.
She leaned over and reached for it, but couldn't quite get it. Her
suit had started to smoke. She pulled away and staggered down the
mountainside. She stopped about twenty feet from the caldera and
tried to breathe and think.

She
could get the page and make sure it burned. Steve would live, and she
would never have existed. Was it worth it?

She
and Steven were assassins, and as such she had expected a quick,
exciting death for both of them, not a lingering, dull, painful one.
Cancer ate Steve over the course of a year. After six months of
watching, Abigail could stand it no more. She left the love of her
life to chase improbabilities.

She
sought miracle cures, wish granters, anything that had the potential,
however small, to save him. She had been to the bottom of the sea and
the bottom of space. She'd seen shamans all over the world. She'd
followed a tunnel through the earth to another world where everything
was upside-down. She'd bought five hundred sixty-three lamps
purported to have genies within; of them only one held a genie, and
it was only able to do parlor tricks, not cure cancer.

This
was his last chance. A ritual burning of something one wished to
destroy; it was retroactive, so even if Steve died while she was out
here, if it worked, he would be alive and cancer-free when she
returned.

Abigail
stood still and weighed what could be on that one page against her
own existence. If she had never been born, perhaps her father
wouldn't have lost his mind and started beating her and her mother,
but she thought that unlikely. The disease had been in him, planted
by his mother, whom Abigail resembled.

If
she had never been born, her father might still be alive. He was her
first cold-blooded murder, committed just before her brother was
born, when she was only fourteen. There had been an investigation, of
course, but her mother's testimony made it clear she had acted in
self-defense. Abigail had no illusions. She had stabbed him as he sat
watching tv. There had been no struggle. It was not self-defense.

Rather,
she had done it to save her unborn brother from having a father like
theirs; to keep little Joshua from becoming another monster in a line
of monsters.

So,
it stood to reason that her mother could be dead, would probably be
in pain, and her brother would be a monster, if Abigail had never
existed.

Then
there was Steve. He had helped her since the beginning. He'd hired
her to help him with a job, because of her stealth and almost magical
understanding of locks and security systems. They had made quite a
team. She knew she loved him when he was discovered on a job and
she'd had to rescue him; she didn't know until then how much she
needed him.

Abigail
started to walk back down the mountain. She was exhausted. It seemed
Steve would already be dead if she had never existed. She had killed in cold
blood, and perhaps the world would be better off, but the ones she
loved needed her and she couldn't abandon them.

All
she had left was a thin hope that she could return to Steve's side
before he left her forever.

Way back in 2013, I was inspired by Neil Gaiman's A Calendar of Tales to write my own tales using the same inspirational quotes. I did not read his stories before I wrote mine, but I did read them after, and they are all awesome.

“What
mythical creature would you like to meet in October? (& why?)”

“A
djinn. Not to make a wish. But for the very best advice on how to be

happy
w/ what you already have.”

It
was made of blue fire. The light and shadow formed a face, but the
rest of it was a blue blaze. Jenny took a step back from it, but it
didn't get any farther away. No heat or odor came from it.

“There
is no need for fear, Master,” it said. “I am here to serve you.”

“What...like
a...like a...” It hovered impassively as she stammered. She cleared
her throat and said, “What...exactly...are you?”

“I
am a djinn.”

“What,
like a genie?”

“Basically,
yes.”

“I
thought genies lived in lamps and granted three wishes to anyone who
rubbed...”

“It
doesn't have to be a lamp. I am bound to that ring you just put on.”

“This
was my mother's. She never told me--”

“I
never appeared to her.”

“Never?”

“Never.
She was frightened.”

“How
could she be frightened if you never appeared to her?”

“She
needed a very ordered life, and didn't believe in the possibility of
me. As soon as she put on the ring I ceased to exist, constrained by
her will.”

“You
died?”

“No.
I simply did not exist while she wore the ring.”

“How
can that be?”

“It
is my nature.”

“What
is your nature? I mean, there are many legends of genies being evil
tricksters, teaching people to be careful what they wish for.”

“My
nature is a reflection of my master's nature. If an evil trickster
wears the ring, I am an evil trickster. If a generous, kind person
wears it, I am generous and kind.”

“You
can see into people like that?”

“I
can know anything applicable to my master's needs.”

“Then
you already know what wishes I would choose?”

“No,
because you haven't decided yet. You feel you still need
information.”

“I...guess
I do.”

“I
will help you. Ask me what you will, and I will answer.”

“Will
it count against my wishes?”

“No.”

“And
I get three?”

“Yes.”

“Do
I have to write up a contract for these wishes in order to avoid
loopholes?”

“I
will grant the spirit of each wish. You don't have to think of which
consequences you'd prefer to avoid. Because I reflect your nature, I
will naturally avoid them.”

“And
I get three wishes?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.
Hm. I don't know. What would you wish for?”

“I
have no will of my own. You are my master. I exist only to help you.”

“What
about those stories about the genies who want to be free?”

“Just
stories. If I were freed I would cease to exist forever.”

Jenny
gasped. “Oh, no!”

The
blue-flame face smiled. “I appreciate your concern for me. I would
like to avoid that fate, also.”

“Because
I would?”

“Of
course.”

“What
about after my wishes? What happens to you then?”

“I
no longer exist until someone else puts on the ring.”

“Oh!”
Jenny said. “That's terrible! Wouldn't you rather exist all the
time?”

“Of
course.”

“And
you can know anything?”

“Yes.”

“What
happens after a person dies?”

“Their
body decomposes.”

“That's
not what I meant.”

“I
know nothing true about an afterlife. If I had to supply information
about one, I would, depending on the faith of my master. You claim
agnosticism, but have no belief in an afterlife, so I have no need to
prevaricate.”

“Here's
what I propose, then. I will disconnect you from the ring, and rebind
you to my blood; you will serve me and then my oldest living
descendant. You will exist continuously. After the three wishes are
made, you will continue to exist as an adviser. I...never want you to
be evil, so...remain a reflection of my nature, as it is now. I
mean...I don't think I'm evil.”

“You
are a very compassionate person. I would be proud to have your nature
permanently.”

“You're
just saying that.”

“No,
I mean it. I've been reprehensible. Is this official? One wish for
this, and then two others for later?”

Way back in 2013, I was inspired by Neil Gaiman's A Calendar of Tales to write my own tales using the same inspirational quotes. I did not read his stories before I wrote mine, but I did read them after, and they are all awesome.

“Tell
me something you lost in September that meant a lot to you.”

“My
mother’s lion ring, lost & found 3 times over... Some things
aren’t meant to be kept.

Elle
stole the ring from her mother and put it back more times than she
could count. She rarely even put it on. She just liked to look at the
lion's head. It was very handsome, in a lionish way. Her mom never
wore it either, but she missed it when it was gone. Elle always put
it back secretly, unable to face her mom with the fact she'd stolen
it.

She
knew her mother must have caught on at some point, but she never said
anything about it until she lay on her death bed. “Did you ever put
back that lion ring you took from my jewelry box?”

“Yes,
mother,” Elle said, holding Mother's hand. “Nearly every time.”

Mother
smiled. “Nearly,” she said.

“Well...yes.
Most recently I seem to have...misplaced it. I'm sorry.”

“Ah,
too bad. Oh, well. It's yours now, anyway.”

“Mama,
I just told you it was lost.”

“You'll
find it again. I always did.”

“That
was me, Mama. I took it and put it back.”

“Oh,
no, that's not what I'm talking about. But you'll see. The ring is
yours now.”

And
then she died.

Elle
had strange, sometimes terrible dreams about that lion head ring that
night. She woke up from one and immediately tracked it down, in a
drawer near her nightstand. It was mother's ring. Mother should have
it.

At
the funeral, Elle put the ring on Mother's finger. It would go into
the crematory with her and be destroyed. She would never look at that
handsome lion face again. She would miss it, but this was for the
best. She moved back among her family, but no one much talked to her.

After
seeing mother to the crematory, Elle took a break outside in the air.
A man approached her. “Excuse me...um, sorry to bother you, miss,
but I'm a gardener here and I found this just off the path to the
crematory.” He held up the lion-head ring.

“My
mother's ring! This was supposed to go into the...”

“It's
too late, now. Maybe you should keep it.”

“I
don't want it.”

“Aw,
come on, it's nice.”

Elle
held it out to him and he backed away suddenly. “You keep it.”

“No...I
couldn't”

“I
don't want it. Please take it.”

He
shook his head and continued backing away. “No, thank you. I'm
sorry. I should go back to work.” He turned and ran.

Elle
tried to get rid of it by passing it off to her family as part of
Mother's estate. No one would take it. Elle was so mad that she wore
it to every family gathering.

She
sold it at a pawn shop. She passed by it in the window frequently. It
went unsold for so long that in the end she bought it back for just a
few dollars. Somebody had to keep it. It might as well be her.

It
sat in a drawer for months. Elle moved on with her life. She'd look
in on it every now and then, but rarely thought about it. Then, one
day it was gone. She hunted for it. It couldn't really be gone.

A
man lived with her then. “What are you looking for?” he asked.

“The
Lion Ring.”

“Lion
Ring?”

“A
ring with a lion's head on it. It was my mother's.”

“I've
never seen you wear it.”

“I
don't wear it. I hate it.”

“Then
why are you looking for it so hard?”

“To
make sure it's really gone.”

“Baby,
that's ridiculous. You'll never be done looking if you don't find
it.”

“What?”

“You
can't just keep looking for it forever.”

She
stopped and looked at him. “I...suppose I can't,” she said,
running her hand back through her light brown hair. “If it's gone
it's gone. If it's here, it'll turn up.”

“There
you go.”

Elle
began an aggressive cleaning program. The house looked great
afterward, but she didn't find the ring.

Then,
several months later, just before her wedding day, the ring returned
to her. It appeared in her jewelry box like it had never been gone.
The lion's gaze was like an icy spike through her chest.

When
she caught her oldest daughter, Susie, stealing it from her, she
tried to destroy it. She went at it with every cutting tool in the
garage. None of them managed more than a scratch or dent, and she
couldn't bring herself to try and cut the lion's head, only the band.

Elle
threw it in the sea. She was blessedly free of it for three days,
until Susie went to the beach with her friends. Then it appeared back
in her jewelry box, like it always had done.

When
Susie moved out, it vanished again, this time for a number of years.
Every time it appeared again, Elle tried to give it to her, but she'd
never take it.

Way back in 2013, I was inspired by Neil Gaiman's A Calendar of Tales to write my own tales using the same inspirational quotes. I did not read his stories before I wrote mine, but I did read them after, and they are all awesome.

“If
August could speak, what would it say?”

“August
would speak of its empire lasting forever whilst glancing, warily, at
the leaves cooking on the trees.

RM
lay back in the grass; it had gone gold and was getting a little
prickly, but he still found a comfortable spot and stared up into a
spotless sky. He glanced over and looked at Mina beside him. She
gazed up into the sky also.

Mina
was a girl who lurked on beauty's doorstep but stubbornly refused to
enter. Some might have said if she took care of her skin, got a
flattering haircut, wore newer, better fitting, more stylish clothes,
she would be beautiful; and perhaps it was true, but RM didn't see
any of that. The oversized, secondhand jeans and t-shirts couldn't
hide her grace. She was everything he wanted her to be.

Except
one thing.

He'd
been trying to bring it up all summer, but somehow it had always been
time to do something else. What a summer it had been! They'd taken up
karate lessons from RM's Uncle Bob, and stopped their occasional
smoking at his request. Suddenly RM had enough energy to go
exploring, and he did, and Mina was almost always with him.

Mina
looked over at him. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips curved in a wry
smile. “What're you thinking?” she asked, her voice biting and
suspicious.

RM
rolled over and raised up on one arm. “I'm thinking summer's almost
over. There are Naked Ladies blooming all over.”

“Ha!
I should have known it would be porno with you.”

RM
rolled his eyes; Mina knew perfectly well he was talking about
flowers. She rolled over onto her stomach and began picking at the
grass.

“Brooding?”
he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Screw
you.” She tossed it off like it was nothing, which it was. She
rarely did that around him anymore. She even glanced at him and
looked apologetic for a moment. “Well, I was thinking about the end
of summer, too. About how we haven't really done anything...really
amazing.”

“I
think the summer's been pretty full.”

“Yeah,
with hanging around town. It's been fun, but not really amazing.”

“Oh.
I see. You want a change of scenery?”

“Nah,
not really, I guess. I like it here.”

“Yeah,
me too.”

“But
still. I'd be nice to do something really awesome.”

“Well...like
what?”

Mina
rolled over onto her side, facing him. “I don't know. I'll have to
give it some thought.”

“I'm
not doing anything crazy,” he said.

She
pouted. “I'd never ask you to do anything crazy.”

RM's
heart pounded. “I have an idea.”

“For
what?”

“Something
amazing.”

“Oh.
Let's hear it, then.”

“Okay.”
He moved closer to her and put his hand on her arm, then leaned down
and put his lips on hers.

She
inhaled sharply, sort of a gasp up through her nose, but that was the
only sign of surprise. She lifted her head and their teeth bashed
together. He came up for air and tried to apologize, but then they
were kissing again, both of them together like they'd had the same
thought at exactly the same time.

RM
had no idea how long they lay there and did nothing but kiss, but it
was long enough for him to consider moving his hand down her arm and
then maybe see where else she'd let it go, when she broke off
suddenly and exclaimed, “That's it!”

“Wha?”

“The
amazing thing we'll do. We'll prank Marcus Aurus hard. I still
haven't gotten him back for what he did to me at the spring dance.”

“Um...wasn't
he just getting you back for--”

“We're
not even,” Mina insisted. She bounded to her feet. “Come on!”

RM
sat up and looked up at her. “Really? So, what, it's like that
didn't just happen?”

“What?
Of course it happened. We don't have to talk about it to make it have
happened, do we?”

“I
suppose not.”

“Good,
then. Come on.”

“You
don't want to talk about it then?”

“What
do you want me to say?”

“That
you'll be my girlfriend?”

“It'll
make things weird at school.”

“Yeah,”
RM said, slowly climbing to his feet. “And get us more attention
than we like, I suppose.”

“They
don't like to see our kind too happy.”

RM
snorted. “No. But we can cool it at school. That's how we play it
anyway, right?”

Mina
nodded. “Yeah, all right,” she said.

RM
stepped up to her, put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her. This
time there was no tooth-banging. She broke away far too soon and
grabbed his hand. “Come on. We can make out later. We gotta get to
the junkyard.”